The French Connection
by Dixie Malfoy
Summary: It's the summer after OotP and Percy has still not spoken to his family. He was quite content (busy, but content) doing work in his office until one day when a pretty, blonde French girl showed up. Why has Fleur suddenly taken it upon herself to help Perc


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Title: The French Connection  
**Author:** Dixie  
**Pairing:** Percy/Fleur  
**Rating:** PG/PG-13  
**Summary:** It's the summer after OotP and Percy has still not spoken to his family. He was quite content (busy, but content) doing his work in his office until one day when a pretty, blonde French girl showed up. Why has Fleur suddenly taken it upon herself to help Percy and the Weasleys? Not even Percy is sure.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters. I make no money from this. It all belongs to JKR, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.   
  
**A/N:** This was written for Setissma for the Percy ficathon. The website for that can be found here: many thanks go out to Cabari (Allison) for being my wonderful beta. :)

The French Connection  
  
Percy Weasley dipped his quill in the ink bottle and signed the document with a flourish, relieved to have finally finished this particular stack of reports. He aimed his wand at the second quill on his desk, said, "_Vox Populi_," and watched as the quill signed the Minister of Magic's name just above his.   
  
He sighed. He reached for his cup of tea. Empty. He sighed again.   
  
Much as he was glad to have finished those reports, another stack sat off to the side, waiting to be opened, read, signed, and delivered just like the ones in front of him. With Fudge gone at meetings all day--which was pretty much every day now that everyone knew Voldemort was back--Percy had been entrusted to remain behind at the office and take care of the more standard affairs that needed attention.   
  
But he preferred not to think about what Fudge was doing and who he might be working with. Instead, he grabbed the folder from the top of the second pile and opened it to the first page.   
  
_The Department of Magical Transportation would like to request that rwuesbndlejfnalr_  
  
Percy jumped back in his seat. The words on the page suddenly began to swarm around, forming nonsense words. He looked at his wand, which lay motionless beside him on the desk. He obviously hadn't caused this magical malfunction and wondered what had.  
  
But just as suddenly as they had started whirling around, the words stopped and materialized into something new:  
  
_Bonjour, Monsieur Weasley._  
  
A quiet but insistent cough suddenly caught his attention, and his head snapped up to see a tall, slender blonde woman leaning against the door frame to the office. Her arms were crossed, her wand rested in her right hand, and she looked at him, amused.   
  
"Hallo," she said, brightly. "Even if I had never met you, your red hair gives you away in a second." She uncrossed her arms and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "To be honest, I was not expecting anyone to be here, so I have a letter to deliver." She pulled out a small parchment envelope from her light blue robes.   
  
Percy frowned. Something was tugging at the back of his mind, something familiar that he felt he should remember. "Yes, I am Percy Weasley. I'm afraid that Minister Fudge is not here right now but I am in charge of accepting all letters. You can rest assured that he will receive it as soon as possible though." He stood up and extended his hand towards the young woman.   
  
She smiled. "That is not necessary. The letter is for you."   
  
Percy blinked. "Oh, well then, thank you." His hand remained extended, but the woman, who had been about to give it to him, took it back.   
  
"Since I am here, you do not need it, I think." She walked around the side of his desk and carefully sat down on the corner, rearranging the pleats in her outfit as she did so. She put his letter back in her pocket and, without a word, began to flip through the folders on his desk. Percy simply sat down and watched, stunned by the audacity of this unknown woman. There was also the fact, a small voice in his mind told him, that he wasn't the sort women usually hung around with. They usually dropped off their work and left immediately for more important or, he grudgingly admitted, more interesting places. What could her letter possibly have to say to him?   
  
She sat there silently, looking around her as if soaking in every detail of the Minister's outer office. After a few moments of looking around, Percy finally cleared his throat and spoke up. "Excuse me, but said you had a letter for me, so I assume you have some business that needs to be dealt with. Is there anything that I can help you with, Miss...?" He stopped, realizing she hadn't introduced herself yet.   
  
She licked her lips, staring at him. "Your brother said you would be very down to business. You are. . . very different from the rest of your family, no?"   
  
Percy's face reddened and his mouth flew open to answer, but she held her hand up and continued to speak. It was better that she did; although he felt the need to defend himself, he wasn't quite sure what to say. "That is all right," she said. "I like different. I am Fleur Delacour." She held her right hand out to him, palm down, and Percy wasn't sure if she wanted him to shake it or kiss it. In the end, Percy settled for shaking it, resulting in a raised eyebrow from Fleur.   
  
Then, it hit him. "Delacour. . ." he murmured. "Were you the representative for Beauxbatons for the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts?"   
  
"Precisely," she said, hopping off his desk. "And I have a job for you."  
  
Percy looked around his office, at the pile of folders before him and at the books on surrounding shelves. "I am afraid, Miss Delacour, that I am a bit busy at the moment. If you tell me what you need I'll only be too happy to--"  
  
"This job is for you," she stated again, and took out his letter once more, this time handing it to him. Percy opened the flap of the envelope and skimmed the contents inside. _Miss Fleur Delacour of the French Ministry requests assistance. . . English. . .knowledge of the British Ministry. . ._ But the part that most caught Percy's attention were the signatures at the bottom of the page. In a splash of ink: _Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic._  
  
Percy frowned. "I don't understand. Why is my help required?"  
  
Fleur threw back her head and laughed. "What, you don't believe your Minister has faith in your abilities? All I want is to know the ways of your Ministry. I had been working for your Gringotts but your Goblins are most uncomfortable to work with. Not to mention some of them have the most unpleasant odors." She wrinkled her nose. "I work for the French Ministry now. Having your father there can be most convenient."  
  
Percy frowned.   
  
"Now that I work for my government, they thought it would be useful to place me as a correspondent to your own. My English lessons have paid off, no?" She grinned, looking very proud of herself. "Of course, it would not do to make mistakes in front of everyone. Not that I would," she said, narrowing her eyes, "but one can never be too careful. So," she announced, "that is where you come in. You teach me everything you know about your Ministry."  
  
Looking down at him like she had all the authority in the world, Percy almost agreed with her right then and there. However, Fudge's immediate approval of this plan did nothing to allay the fears he had about finishing his other work. How did Fudge expect him to do both jobs?   
  
Fleur sighed at his silence. "You do not need to worry about your silly little papers," she said, waving her hand over his desk. "You will teach me during lunch. Come," she clapped. "I have made reservations and we are going to be late."  
  
Percy looked back down at the letter in his lap. The signature was real enough--hadn't he spent the past several hours signing documents with his boss' quill? An hour for lunch really wasn't asking that much--although he usually spent lunch at his desk--and if Fudge honestly thought he could handle this extra responsibility, then he would do it. Of course, there was no way he could possibly explain everything about the Ministry in just one hour, but if Fudge expected him to perform this duty then he would do as best he could.   
  
Percy folded the letter back into its envelope and stored it away in his desk. He then paused for a few moments, wondering if he should bring anything with him. Would it be enough to simply lecture her or would she need to see specific examples of how they documented their reports? He looked up, meaning to ask if she preferred hearing about one department over the other, but he was surprised to find her already leaving the office. She had not even asked if he had wanted the job, simply assumed he would say yes and follow her lead to whatever location she had chosen for lunch.   
  
Percy resisted the urge to grit his teeth. If he was to do this correctly, he would like to retain some semblance of authority. He grabbed a few stray parchments from his desk and followed after Fleur, hoping the restaurant, at least, served good tea.   
  
"Er. . . Miss Delacour. . ." Percy stood awkwardly next to Fleur, gazing at the pink fancy script of the restaurant's sign. _Jacques' Café_ was a tiny place on one of the side streets off Diagon Alley that Percy had never knew existed. It was just as well because, despite its small size, it looked to be one of the most expensive places he had ever seen. Through the windows, he could see little crystal chandeliers hanging above each table, and it seemed that the woman who walked into the door ahead of them was wearing more jewelry than his mother and sister owned. Perhaps it was just as well that he was only tutoring her for an hour. He didn't think he could afford more than that.   
  
"Don't be silly," Fleur said, as if she could read his mind. "Do you think we would go here if the Ministry were not paying?" She grinned slyly, and then slipped her arm through his. "Let us go before they give our table away." She began walking, practically pulling Percy along with her, and they entered the building, Fleur muttering impatiently to herself, "They better not sit us by the kitchen."   
  
Once their food was served--at a table most certainly not near the kitchen--Fleur turned to Percy with a look of impatience. "Well? Your Ministry. Tell me everything. Prove to me you know as much as your brother says."  
  
Percy dropped his fork on his plate with a loud clatter, and the couple at the table next to them glared back angrily for disturbing their quiet atmosphere. "My--my brother?" His face suddenly grew hot, and he hoped his cheeks weren't as red as they felt.   
  
"Yes, your older brother Bill. He helped me with my English while I was at Gringotts."   
  
Percy picked up his fork and began pushing the food around his plate, but did not move to eat it. His pulse had sped up and it took several seconds before he was sure that his rapid breathing would not betray him. "I did not realize that you were acquainted with him."  
  
Fleur tapped her long, manicured fingernails on the tablecloth. "Is that a problem?"   
  
"What? Oh, no." Percy shook his head and tried to change the subject. "So, where would you like to begin? The Ministry is quite a large place."  
  
Fleur smiled, sat up straight in her chair, and clapped eagerly. "Of course your Ministry is big; although, I am sure my country's is even bigger. But, down to business. Why don't you begin with your job? What do you do? How did you get it?"  
  
Percy took another sip of his drink, taking his time in answering. Fleur seemed to be hitting on all the wrong topics that afternoon. She was familiar with Bill and the only reason she occupied her current job was because of her father's position . How serious was she in learning about the Ministry? The tiny voice in the back of his mind was back again, whispering that it was possible his older brother had sent Fleur there to spy on him. But as quickly as that thought had entered his mind, it left. Their silence had made it clear they wanted nothing to do with him.   
  
The smile on Fleur's face was slowly turning sour at his prolonged silence, so he put his glass down and began to speak.   
  
"Well, right now, I work as an assistant to our Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Previous to that, however, I was employed under the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Both jobs have their fair share of demands and it was not without a great deal of energy that I worked at my first job. These two particular positions require a great deal of knowledge in the laws that govern those areas. One must strive to be up-to-date on everything." Fleur seemed to be paying attention so he continued. "Among my many duties, I attend meetings with foreign dignitaries, take notes for the Minister, write up reports on the activities of our departments' activities, and occasionally employ the power of approving other departments' reports when the Minister is away as you saw me doing earlier. It's actually a very important position and one that Minister Fudge wouldn't be able to trust to just anyone."   
  
"That is impressive, Monsieur Weasley," Fleur said. "Now tell me, how does an assistant in a department suddenly come to work for the Minister himself? I am sure you must have done something to bring attention to yourself."  
  
Fleur's questioning continued throughout the rest of their lunch but, as Percy thought, they didn't cover nearly one-tenth of what went on at the Ministry. It also seemed, although it was possible he was imagining it, that every time he tried to move on to another topic, Fleur would somehow manage to steer the conversation back to where he found himself once again talking about his participation in the Ministry. It was not that he minded talking about himself but the phrase, _"Prove to me you know as much as your brother says"_ stayed in his mind throughout the meal, forcing him speak with more reserve than usual.   
  
_"Well," he had said slowly, "during the Triwizard Tournament, my boss, one Mr. Crouch, had. . . fallen ill and requested that I fill in for him and take care of all of his obligations. One day after that, about midsummer, Minister Fudge approached me in my office. Apparently he had been watching how I handled myself in the face of duty and admired my ability to perform under pressure. Due to the unfortunate circumstance of Mr. Crouch passing away, they had need to reorganize the department and so the Minister asked if I would like to join his staff instead of remaining on with the others. Of course, he doesn't do this with every Minister employee and I was only too proud to say yes."  
  
"Well, I am sure your parents must have had a lot to say about that," Fleur commented, a smile playing upon her lips.   
  
Percy had nodded slowly, torn between laughing at the absurdity of her statement and frowning. "That would be a correct assessment, yes," he had said finally._  
  
Soon, lunch ended. Percy showed the waiter his employee badge so that there bill would be charged to the Ministry. Instead of heading back to the office, though, Fleur grabbed his arm and pulled him down Diagon Alley with the excuse that there were still a few minutes of the lunch hour left.   
  
Fleur sighed happily as they passed by Madam Malkin's. "I do so love a good meal that reminds me of my country. The best thing to do after a day of work is to make reservations at your favorite place and let other people serve you. It is most relaxing to let others do the work for once, is it not?"  
  
Percy simply nodded, once more glancing at his watch and wondering if Fudge had come back to the office yet.   
  
"The thing is," Fleur chattered on merrily, "is one must have reservations. There is just no way that you can get a seat without one. That is what the word means, you know." She looked at him knowingly.   
  
"To have reservations is to withhold something, as in our case they withheld a table for us. But for someone to have reservations themselves, well, I suppose that would mean they are withholding something from others, no?"   
  
Percy glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. ". . . Yes."   
  
"Well, I think that is a shame when people cannot share things with others. I know that the people I know would never try to keep things from me. It is pointless because I always find out. I believe you have a saying about things like that. It is better late than never, correct? Although, sometimes being too late can cause problems."   
  
She smiled happily at him but this time Percy had had enough. To ask one's own girlfriend, or whatever she was, to spy on him like that, not to mention waste his time when he had plenty of work that needed to be done, was something he could not let continue. He took a deep breath, ready to confront her. "Now see here, Miss Dela--" but was promptly interrupted.   
  
"My goodness!" she exclaimed. "Look at the time. You must be anxious to get back to work and here I am, prattling on about nothing." She then leaned in close and lowered her voice. "It is very nice to speak to someone who takes you seriously, no? I hope we can carry on these discussions again very soon." She dropped his arm and stood back. "Au revoir!" Fleur quickly kissed his cheek and took off, leaving one very confused and speechless Percy Weasley standing in the middle of the busy street.

A few days later found Percy once again working in his office over the lunch period. Sighing, he took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, the strain from that morning's work finally getting to him. He glanced down at his desk, ready to place his spectacles back on his nose, when he noticed a shadow fall across his work.   
  
"Oh, hello, can I hel--"   
  
_BAM!_  
  
When Percy's eyes slowly regained their focus, he realized that instead of sitting on his chair, he was now looking up at it from the floor.   
  
"Here." A deep voice from up above shoved Percy's glasses back into his hands. He looked at them for a moment before putting them on. And then promptly took them off again. There was something wrong with them or, more precisely, there was something wrong with the right lens. He wiped them on his shirt and then put them back on. He still couldn't see out of his right eye.   
  
Perhaps it wasn't the glasses. He slowly reached up and touched his right eye, and immediately winced. It was starting to swell and was most likely turning purple at that very moment.   
  
Percy blinked and then stared at the boots in front of him. "You--you punched me!" he said incredulously.   
  
"That," said the voice, "was for making mum cry."   
  
Percy put his glasses on and quickly scrambled to his feet. Swaying just a little from the pain, he blinked again and looked up and down at his assailant. Boots. Jeans. Black t-shirt. Red hair. Fang earring.   
  
"_Bill_?"   
  
Bill stared at him for a moment with the most serious look Percy had ever seen on him before walking around to the other side of Percy's desk. "Sit down before I punch you again."   
  
Percy quickly sat down.   
  
Bill took a step forward, put his hands on the desk, and leaned in. He took a deep breath.   
  
"We need to talk."  
  
A familiar, quiet cough suddenly caught the Weasleys' attention and the two turned to see Fleur, once again leaning against the wall with her arms folded. "You have forgotten about me already," she pouted. She brought her hand up and began examining her nails, which were painted a pale pink to match her current outfit. "And I see you punched him too." She turned to Percy and smiled pityingly. "I told him not to do it but he insisted. You didn't have to do it so hard!" she said, scolding Bill.   
  
Percy watched as she took out her wand and walked over to him, her hips swaying, the corner of her mouth twitching as if trying to hold back a smile. She took Percy's chin in her left hand and stared intently at his face. It was a bit unnerving to have her look at him so closely for so long and he began to watch Bill out of the corner of his good eye, still unsure of why he had shown up all of a sudden.   
  
"Stop fidgeting," she told him, but in a much kinder tone than she had reprimanded Bill. "Now," she said softly, "this might sting a little." She murmured some words under her breath and, within moments, Percy felt the skin around his eye tightening and then, finally, heal itself. Fleur, still only a few inches from his face, grinned. "Feel better?"  
  
Percy tried to swallow. "Oh, yes, i-it does. Thank you."  
  
Behind them, Bill cleared his throat which set Fleur off, laughing. "Oh, someone is jealous about not getting any attention!" She sashayed around Percy's desk and sat down in the chair next to where Bill was still standing.   
  
Bill's expression was currently a combination of annoyance and confusion. Percy's first reaction was to feel scared--much like the twins, Bill liked to joke around, but one did not want to cross his bad side--but instead, he felt a surge of anger rush through him. After all that time of no contact and his brother just decided to burst in his office like that with no warning? Not to mention assault him!  
  
"I don't know what you want," he said, trying to control himself--the shaking, he convinced himself, was merely a side effect of the injury--"but I think you need to explain yourselves. I don't--" He stopped abruptly and turned to look at Fleur again, and then scowled. She _had_ been sent there by his family. "I don't appreciate people spying on me nor do I understand why such a long period devoid of contact suddenly ends with a display of violence."   
  
Bill looked at him a moment before cracking a smile. "Still the same old pompous Percy, huh?" He took a deep breath and scratched the back of his head. "Look, this whole self-imposed exile thing you have going on here? It's getting a little ridiculous. Mum and dad want you to come back."   
  
Percy stiffened. "Did they say that?"  
  
"Well, not in those words but--"  
  
"Then I'm sorry." Percy stood up and motioned towards the door. "If they can't come here and speak to me themselves, then I don't have time for this. As you can see, I still work for the Minister and have plenty of work that needs to be done."  
  
Bill narrowed his eyes and rubbed the knuckles on his right hand. Percy wondered briefly if he was going to punch him again but stood his ground--back behind his desk. "If you worked as hard on your relationships as you did those reports, you'd be the most loved man on earth."  
  
Fleur let loose a giggle. Percy threw her a dirty look before turning back to his brother. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" he said to Bill.   
  
"Exactly what it sounds like!" Bill yelled back. "Your stupid fight has--"  
  
"Stupid fight?" Percy exclaimed, eyes wide with indignation. "It never would have happened if father hadn't accused me of spying on him--"  
  
"Which never would have happened," Bill interrupted, "if you had just explained yourself in the first place!"  
  
Red hair and red faces: save for the glasses and pony tail, the two young men staring each other down looked exactly alike.   
  
After a few seconds, Percy looked away and spoke through a clenched jaw. "If they knew me at all, the fact that I would work undercover for Minister Fudge should never have even crossed their minds."   
  
"And if you knew them at all, the fact that they were only looking out for you would have crossed yours."  
  
The low, almost upset, tone of his voice made Percy look up quickly. Bill was standing with his back towards Percy, his hands on his hips. Fleur promptly stood up and smiled gently at Percy. "Well, I think that is enough for today. Besides, unless it is about me, I find it very boring to watch two people stand around and argue. Nothing ever gets resolved and I don't even get to pick which man I like best. Come." She took Bill's arm in hers and began walking with him to the exit. As she reached the door, she pivoted lightly on her high heels, once again facing Percy. "Once the two of you have calmed down, we can discuss this again."  
  
"Discuss this again? I'm sorry, but--"  
  
"Au revoir!" she called, and the last thing Percy saw as the door swung shut was the back of Bill's head.   
  
Percy collapsed in his desk chair. If he hadn't actually felt real pain from that punch, he would swear that the amount of work he had been doing lately was driving him crazy. For his family, or at least one member, to just show up without any warning completely bewildered him.   
  
He had to admit, the thought had crossed his mind once or twice before, but only briefly. To go back meant to admit they were right, to admit weakness. Wasn't that just what they wanted? He was not weak. He had proved that by sending the sweater back and would continue to prove it until they were ready to recognize him for what he was worth.  
  
Sighing, Percy put his face into his hands and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Why Bill and why now? And what did Fleur Delacour have to do with it? By the looks of it, it didn't seem like Bill had coerced her into participating. If anything, Bill seemed the more reluctant of the two.   
  
Percy let himself lend a few more minutes to this train of thought before forcing himself to pick up a quill. No one cared about petty family problems when You-Know-Who was about, and these reports needed to be taken care of immediately. He dipped his quill into the ink pot and, with a deep breath, set to work. He did not accomplish half his usual amount of work that afternoon, however, his concentration completely shot.   
  
And for the next several days, Percy's anxiety continued. He was frequently looking over his shoulder for any disappearing mops of red hair and constantly jumping at the slightest noise, always believing it to be someone knocking on the office door. He kept telling himself he was being silly; after the brief (but significant) row with Bill, why would anyone in his family want to come back and talk to him? There was also the added chance that Fleur might show up at any given moment. He highly doubted her little story about working for the French Ministry, but as he rarely got a moment alone with Fudge these days, he was unable to question the authenticity of the Minister's signature. If Fleur had been telling the truth, it simply gave him more stress as he felt a certain obligation in helping her out, regardless of her meddling with his brother.   
  
Either way, Bill would undoubtedly report back to everyone what had happened. It was a lose-lose situation.   
  
And little did Percy know it was about to get worse.   
  
Nearly a week after his encounter with Bill, Percy had just begun to gather up the things on his desk and get ready to go home when someone grabbed him from behind. He was still somewhat skittish after being caught of guard so suddenly by his brother, but had promptly learned how to hide it from others when a few of his coworkers began to tease him about it. As the hand clamped down on his shoulder, he began to rethink his paranoia.   
  
Letting out a very undignified yelp, Percy whirled around and found himself face to face with Fleur Delacour. "Oh! I mean, hello, Miss Delacour," he started, trying desperately not to drop the stack of parchments in his arms, "I was just leaving for the night. Minister Fudge has already gone home, but if you need help with anything, please feel free to come by again tomorrow."   
  
Fleur smirked as she watched him struggle with his belongings. "Trying to get rid of me, Monsieur Weasley? I do not think so." She shook her finger at him. "Do not worry. I have come here to help you."  
  
Percy furrowed his eyebrows. Every time he came to a new conclusion regarding Fleur's involvement in things, she opened her mouth and took him completely by surprise. Perhaps this had to do with whatever arrangement she had made with Fudge. "Well," he hesitated, "all right then." He quickly leafed through the reports that sat on top of his pile and found one that looked all right. "This is from the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I assume you've been working with them this week? This might be something for you to look at..." Percy trailed off. Fleur was looking at him very strangely.   
  
Without warning, she burst into laughter. "Oh no no no, Monsieur Weasley. I meant I have come here to help you _relax._ I have made plans and I mean to take you out, away from these. . . silly papers and things." She wrinkled her nose at his belongings, and Percy felt the all-too familiar sting of embarrassment at the quality his old leather briefcase which he had proudly bought (albeit secondhand) with his first Ministry earnings.   
  
"I'm afraid not many people have the luxury of free time these days, myself included," he told her. "Perhaps some other time." He took a step forward, meaning to slide past her through the doorway, but Fleur was too quick for him. Her left foot and arm shot out to the opposite side of the doorway, blocking the entire exit with her body. Her coat fell open, revealing a long, slinky red dress underneath that hugged her hips and was cut low enough to make Percy think it was illegal for him just to be looking at it.   
  
He quickly looked away.   
  
Fleur tapped her fingernails against the doorjamb.   
  
Percy sighed. Looked at the ceiling. The other wall. His feet. His briefcase. Tried to ignore the rose-scented perfume coming from her direction.  
  
Fleur tapped.   
  
Percy sighed again. Finally: "You're not going to move, are you?"   
  
Fleur let loose a bright, happy burst of laughter, something that, Percy reflected, seemed almost out of place in his usually solemn office. "You catch on very quickly. I knew you were smart. Now, you are coming with me." With that, she grabbed his arm and dragged him out of his office, ignoring his loud protests and cries of "Wait! I dropped my parchments!"  
  
A half an hour later found the two of them once again in Diagon Alley, standing on a side street before a rundown brick building. A dirt-covered sign hung on the side of the building, and Percy could barely make out its name underneath the grime: Craze Alley.   
  
A line of people were currently leaning up against the facade by the front door, where a huge, muscular man wearing a shirt two sizes too small stood, holding a clipboard in his right hand. Percy stood and watched as, every now and then, the guard would open the door and let a few couples in, allowing the pulsing music from inside to fill their small corner of the alley.   
  
Percy frowned and then glanced over at Fleur, who was smiling contentedly. What did she mean by this nonsense? "Excuse me, Miss Delacour, but what is this place? I've heard rumors of this area before and it is not exactly the safest place to be. It's--" he stopped and then looked around quickly before lowering his voice, "It's quite close to Knockturn Alley, you know."   
  
Fleur laughed. "Psh. This is one of the finest places to be. I admit, the exterior does need to be improved upon, but just wait until you see the inside."   
  
Percy glanced once more at the crumbling brick wall beside him. Several dented trash bins were propped up against it, holding more garbage bags than they could handle, while flies and their larger cousins buzzed around for food.  
  
Fleur flashed him a confident grin, tossed her hair back, squared her shoulders, and began to march right to the door of the noisy, and, Percy was convinced, possibly dangerous and unsanitary night club. Instead of heading to the back of the line, however, Percy watched in amazement as Fleur marched right up to the guard at the door.   
  
"But, er, Miss Delacour!" he called out as he hurried to catch up. He couldn't very well leave a woman like her alone in a place like this, could he? It was dirty and dimly lit and full of unseemly people. Of course, he didn't want to be left alone either, but the last thing he wanted to do was upset those people by cutting in line. The group of young men near the door seemed to have an inordinate amount of body piercings, and Percy wasn't too keen on running into people whose tolerance of pain was much higher than his. "Miss Delacour!" he called again. "Shouldn't we wait in line?"  
  
"Nonsense," she said, waving him off, and continued to walk towards the door. "It is all about who you know. Do you not remember my lecture about reservations?" She strode right up to the large man guarding the door. To Percy's complete shock, he grabbed Fleur and threw her up in the air, and then enveloped her in his large, hairy arms. Fleur shrieked and began pounding the man on his shoulders, shouting, "Let me down, you big brute!"  
  
Wondering why no one else was doing anything about this sudden attack, Percy immediately whipped out his wand and began to think of an appropriate spell to bring down a man of that size. However, when he reached the two, he found that they were laughing.   
  
"Pierre, you are going to ruin my clothes! You have already messed up my hair" Fleur sniffed as the man lowered her to the ground, and she quickly began running her fingers through her long blonde tresses to fix the damage. "You know you I hate that."  
  
"My apologies, Mademoiselle," Pierre said, and bowed low, the light from the candles floating above the door reflecting off the top of the his bald head. Now that he was closer, Percy noted that he too had a French accent.   
  
"Well, well, well!" Pierre straightened up and crossed his arms, and gave Percy a unfriendly look. Percy gulped. "What have we here? Not someone who will take advantage of my little flower, eh?"  
  
"Oh, Pierre!" Fleur swatted playfully at his arm, clearly enjoying the attention. "This is Monsieur Weasley of the Ministry. I thought I would take him upstairs for the evening. Work has been very difficult lately, hasn't it? She looked at Percy, who furrowed his eyebrows in response.   
  
"Yes," he said slowly, "very difficult."  
  
"Pierre used to work as a bodyguard for my father but he now runs this place," Fleur then explained, pointing to the sign above the door which read _Dancing Inside_.   
  
Not the most creative name, Percy thought. Then again, if the length of the line in front of them was anything to go by, he supposed it got the message across.  
  
"A very bad career move," Fleur shook her finger at the older man, "but without which, we would not have this nice place to go to."  
  
The two then turned to Percy, as if expecting him to make a reply. "Er, yes, well, there are upsides and downsides to everything." He tugged at his collar and gulped. Had it suddenly gotten hotter outside?   
  
Pierre crossed his arms, the muscles bulging out even more, and continued to eye Percy. "Yes. . .," he said slowly, "well, just ignore the party in the main room then. Weekends are my most busy time. And you," he grinned at Fleur and raised his hand as if to ruffle her hair, but then thought better of it, and stopped mid-gesture.  
  
Fleur smirked.   
  
"Have fun and give my regards to your family. And don't break too many hearts up there. Sure, I would sell more wine, but it takes forever to get rid of those guys come closing time." Pierre winked at Fleur as he held the door open for her, and the earsplitting music once again flooded the alley. Fleur patted her friend's cheek fondly and then stepped inside. Once out of sight, Pierre turned towards Percy and nodded stiffly at him. As soon as Percy's foot touched the floor inside, Pierre let go of the door.   
  
"Hey!" Percy heard a voice shout from somewhere in the line behind him. "Why do they get to go in and not us?! We've been waiting forever!"  
  
"Because I don't admit dogs, that's why!" Pierre shouted as the door slowly shut. "Now wait your turn!"  
  
Once the door was shut, Percy had to stop and wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before continuing. The music made it impossible for him to call out to Fleur, so he decided to move, groping his way along the wall. Several times, he bumped into people, but they were too busy doing things to notice him; they simply shoved him along until he ran into the next couple who also pushed him on his way.  
  
When he had made it farther down the hall, Percy was finally able to see a dim light up ahead. The music thumped louder as he moved closer to it so he figured that was where the dance floor was. Percy grit his teeth, torn between using his hands to protect what was left of his ear drums or to continue feeling the wall. Just as he was deciding to persist in his search, someone, in turn, bumped into him. Percy was just about to step around the stranger when the familiar scent of roses reached his nose.  
  
Fleur tugged at his sleeve, motioning for him to follow, and Percy placed his hand on the small of her back so that he wouldn't lose her. As Fleur opened a door in the wall that Percy could have sworn wasn't there five seconds ago, a thought struck him. For someone who was supposed to know so much, he had been spending a lot of his time recently following someone else around. It was certainly not something he was accustomed to, but he had experienced many things recently that could be considered out of the ordinary. Of course, Fleur had been involved in all of those events, but he didn't have time to ponder that any further, as the woman in question was now grabbing his arm, impatient for him to hurry.  
  
She had been doing that a lot lately, Percy reflected as he stumbled onto the stairway just inside the door. She was going to permanently bruise him if he wasn't careful.   
  
Once this door had shut behind him, the noise mercifully stopped. Percy was relieved to discover that despite the dirty look of the place, they were not inconsiderate with their Silencing Charms.   
  
Lit sconces lined the two walls but were spaced apart just enough that Percy still felt safer gripping the hand railing. "Would you mind telling me where we're going, exactly? With all this mystery, I rather feel as if you're leading me to the guillotine." Or to my family, he thought, and couldn't decide which would be worse.  
  
"Don't be silly," Fleur laughed. "If I wanted to hurt you, I would have left you downstairs. Now," she said, halting at the top of the short stairway, "here we are."   
  
Percy looked up and saw that they had stopped in front of another door. This one had a sign above it that was similar to the one outside the club. This one read, _Wine and Music Inside_. Percy nodded to himself. Of course.   
  
Fleur opened the door and stepped inside, Percy hesitantly following after.   
  
He looked around the room, completely astonished. If he didn't know about the people downstairs, bodies full of bits and pieces of metal and plastered with body art, bumping and grinding to the noise they called music, he would think this place truly high class. It was the kind of place Fudge would take the visiting foreign ministers to but never the rest of his staff.   
  
The only sounds he could hear now were the low murmurs of the other patrons scattered about the room and the soft lulling notes of his favorite Muggle composer, Beethoven, playing around him. The walls were dark wood paneling, and his feet tread softly on the red carpet. The cherry wood tables and bar were well-polished while the burgundy plush chairs surrounding the several fireplaces looked particularly inviting.   
  
As soon as the door had shut behind them, a waiter came by and handed them two tall glasses of sparkling white wine from his tray.   
  
"Where are we?" Percy asked in amazement, as he took the drink.   
  
"Do you think I would dare to spend longer than necessary in a place like downstairs?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow. "Unfortunately, Britain seems to be lacking any proper social establishments, and I refuse to travel by Floo Network except when I absolutely have to. I'm not going out with soot on my outfit every night, thank you very much." She motioned towards a small couch by the closest fireplace and began to walk towards it.   
  
"Anyway, when I heard what Pierre was doing, I convinced him that he had to add this room. A success, as you can see." Fleur sat down and crossed her legs, grinning at the various men and women around them. Her red dress was not at all out of place now, Percy saw, as a woman in a long white evening gown walked past accompanied by a man who was actually wearing a top hat. Percy quickly sat down before his Ministry robes were identified as not part of the proper dress code.   
  
The fire beside them gave off a comforting glow, and as the music switched from Beethoven to the new soft jazz single by the Wizarding group Leda's Swan, Percy felt himself slowly relaxing. Fleur was right, he reflected, and took another sip of his wine. For the time being, he didn't have to worry about the reports sitting on his desk or which dignitaries he would have to impress the next day.   
  
After a few minutes, though, several thoughts that had been bothering him before crept back into his mind. "Fleur," he began, "why are we here?"  
  
"Silly," she said, smiling, "to relax. How many times do I have to tell you?"   
  
"No, I meant..." Percy took a deep breath. "Why are _we_ here? Why did you come to my office that day? Why haven't I heard from Bill again? Or anyone, for that matter? Why..." He stopped, unsure of how to continue when he had so many questions.  
  
"Monsieur Weasley." Fleur leaned forward, placed her hand on his knee, and gazed intently at him. "Percy. Do you remember the second task during the Triwizard Tournament?"  
  
Percy blinked. He didn't know what that had to do with anything but, then again, none of Fleur's actions so far had made sense, he decided to go along with it. "Yes, I do."  
  
She smiled. "Of course you would. You were a judge, correct? Well, our job as champions was to go into the lake and rescue the thing that we would miss the most." She took another drink of her wine and smiled wistfully. "Mine was my sister. Gabrielle. I love my sister very much, Percy, and I don't know what I would do without her. Anyway, as I was swimming in the lake, I...had some problems and could not get to my sister in time. It was not until afterwards that I learned Harry Potter had saved her. Before that, though, I thought she was lost."  
  
A memory of the contestants walking out the lake suddenly came to Percy's mind. He had been sitting with the judges, waiting for the champions to arrive so that they could assign the appropriate points to the four. But then...  
  
There was Harry helping Ron stand up. There he was, running out into the water. It wasn't until later when he looked down that he noticed he had even gotten wet. His arms grabbing at Ron, making sure he was all right. Ron, yelling at him to get away, that he was fine. Madam Pomfrey finally coming to pry his younger brother away from him. He hadn't realized he had been so worried until...  
  
"Of course Professor Dumbledore wouldn't allow them to get hurt," he mumbled to himself.   
  
"I'm sorry?" Fleur said. "I did not hear what you said."  
  
"Oh, no, it was nothing." Percy shook his head, trying to clear his mind.   
  
"Well," she continued, "I was very lucky not to have lost Gabrielle, but as I struggled underwater for those few minutes, I thought she was gone. It is not something I want to feel again."  
  
Fleur then began to dig through the pockets of her robes. "Ah-ha," she said, finally. She pulled out a slim red pocketbook and opened it to the little sleeves containing pictures. Percy noticed that quite a few of them held pictures of men, several of them waving at Fleur as she flipped past them, one even blowing a kiss at her. After a few seconds, she stopped at the one she wanted.   
  
"This is Gabrielle," she announced proudly. The girl in the picture looked exactly like a younger Fleur with slightly darker hair. She smiled up at the two of them and waved, but then blushed and tried to hide behind the tree she was standing next to.   
  
"She looks very nice," Percy said politely.   
  
"Thank you." Fleur snapped the wallet shut and replaced it back in her pocket. "Your brother Bill has many photos of your family on his desk at work," she said abruptly. "Honestly, I don't know how he gets his work done, paper everywhere, and picture frames leaning awkwardly on top. Actually, it is most amusing to watch him try to find what he needs," she smiled.   
  
Percy took a deep breath. Once again, they were back to his family. "While I appreciate your concern--"  
  
Fleur raised an eyebrow. "Did I say I was done?" She laughed quietly to herself. "I noticed in your office that you do not have any pictures of your family on your desk. Was it like that before or did you take them down after the argument?"  
  
Percy frowned, and took a deep breath, trying to stay calm but failing. "Now look here. I don't know what Bill told you, but--"  
  
Fleur interrupted him again. "Keep your voice down," she said, patting his knee. "I am not trying to get you angry. I just like looking at pictures. I think my favorite was the one where everyone, including your parents, were wearing dress robes. Not something people wear at an outside picnic." Fleur grinned slyly.   
  
Percy started. "Wearing dress robes? But that was my--"  
  
"Birthday party? I believe Bill said that was the summer you turned fourteen?" Fleur smiled smugly as Percy continued to look amazed. " 'Proper dress clothes for a proper young man,' was his expression, I think. Strange that such a hateful family would do that. Strange that a picture representing a nice moment would still be kept out because it still makes the owner happy. Strange that--"  
  
"All right," Percy growled. "I understand." He sighed, and then looked up at Fleur. "But I still don't understand why you are doing this. I suppose Bill needed someone to help him quell his rage?"   
  
Fleur laughed out loud, but quickly covered her mouth. "I have heard many stories about the Weasley temper, but that was not the reason. No. I made him participate, in fact. I enjoy a challenge."   
  
She then reached across to the small table in front of them and took drink from her wine glass. When she sat back up, her face was serious again. "Percy, I told you that I thought I had lost Gabrielle. I would not wish that feeling on anyone, losing a family member that one holds dear. After seeing how happy everyone looked in Bill's pictures and finally getting the story out of him, I could not imagine losing one's entire family." She placed her hand under Percy's chin and made sure he was looking her in the eyes. "Was it really worth it, Percy?"   
  
Percy looked away and bit his lip. Had the past year been worth it? He heard his father's words over and over in his head, floating up unbidden in the most random moments, always threatening to destroy his mood whenever he was feeling anything close to fine.   
  
_"He is using you, Percy! Can't you see that? He just wants you to be his eyes and ears for what Dumbledore is doing. You should have talked to us about this first. Don't you know what kind of trouble this can--will--bring?_  
  
Then there were the other sounds. The memories of the twins were the loudest. Their pranks, their jokes, their laughs, their scoffs. The always present "Shut up, Percy" coming from his siblings at least once a day. The way they'd roll their eyes at his reprimands. The way they'd disobey his instructions as Prefect and then Head Boy. How his parents had doubted him after all he had done. Hadn't he been the only one to express interest in the Ministry out of all the siblings?  
  
Were the odd glares from his father in the Ministry halls worth leaving all that?   
  
But then again, he thought, with all of the torment he had been through, hadn't he put them through the same? With a heavy heart, he remembered the Christmas sweater. That had not been easy for him, but Bill's words, _"That was for making mum cry,"_ had proved it hadn't been easy for them either. And he couldn't deny that he had reciprocated those glares in the hallway, when he even bothered to look at all, of course.   
  
But then, suddenly, the image of Ron in the lake came back to his mind. He couldn't deny feeling the same way Fleur had, with the way he wouldn't let go because he had to make sure Ron was all right.  
  
Percy put his head in his hands. There were just too many memories, some good and some bad, and all coming to mind too quickly.  
  
Yelling across the Great Hall, cheering so loudly for First Year Ron and his great chess game. Writing to his parents in his sixth year when they thought Ginny had died, and then locking himself in his room afterwards so his brothers wouldn't see him cry. Remembering how proud he was to have an older brother who worked with dragons and an older brother who was a curse breaker in Egypt. Never going to a Quidditch match because he just knew that the twins would get injured by their Bludgers. Feeling panic but not being able to show it when Ron's bed had been torn to pieces by Sirius Black.   
  
Bill's words from their most recent conversation. _"And if you knew them at all, the fact that they were only looking out for you would have crossed yours."_  
  
Perhaps his family didn't know him as well as he would like. But perhaps he didn't know them that well either.   
  
Percy finally looked up at Fleur, who was watching him expectantly. He had been silent for a long time, but this was not something one could decide on so quickly.   
  
And he thought sending the sweater back had been difficult.   
  
He took a deep breath.   
  
"I'm not going to get punched again, am I?"  
  
Fleur beamed.


End file.
